To See Your Burden
by Rebekah Kroeplin
Summary: Arthur Dimmesdale talks a long walk and finds himself going further then he might have thought. There, he finds someone very small, yet very precious to his heart.


**A short story written for English class telling an interesting meeting between the reverend and the young Pearl. I've always been interested in their relationship seeing as he is the father and she is the daughter and I wonder about various interactions they've had. So, this is it!**

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**To See Your Burden**

Arthur Dimmesdale spent the following evening- subsequent the events of that afternoon where he met the woman and child of his grievous heart in the yard of his own home- taking a leisured stroll to nowhere in particular. It was nearly day break and the reverend's feet were being pulled at its own accord somewhere that might be of mild consequence, but it is quite uncertain at the moment and his thoughts were so far away that it hadn't really come to him to think that his destination would be of any significance in the slightest. His heart felt heavy and burdened, constricted and pulled, stretched and smoldered. Also, he was tired, not physically, but spiritually really and his burden chaining him to the sky was unseen by the world as the world moved freely around him. Then again, it seemed sometimes the world knew exactly of the information of his terrible burden, but they thought it polite not to speak it. This theory alone made him feel the darkest and the gravest of sorrows; the chains that bound him strapped to his chest and tightened its grip on his heart. And, thus the beast of his load resided and slowly consumed his being.

Mr. Dimmesdale will never understand how he'd gotten there, but his thoughts were suddenly pulled from him and he was thrust back into reality by a hooting owl. He raised his eyes from the ground, which they seemed to have been focusing on for the past eternity. He was surrounded by the sea side forest and it was growing dark. "Saint's be named, I have gone far," the young man whispered.

"You are a God man!"

The reverend turned around and looked for the possessor of that voice and found it right away in between a grove of bushes, glowing like the crimson sun. Little Pearl, with auburn locks of hair and eyes like diamonds, sat amongst the decaying foliage and played with an old doll, a rather large twig, a broken sea shell and the button that had come apart from her dress on account of her running too fast through the trees and not watching where she was going.

Mr. Dimmesdale was wary of the child, for she had a wild look about her unlike anything he'd seen before and she bounded similar to that of a satanic ritual, by means of frightening the other children. Though her loveliness was staggering, and the similarities between the child and her mother were incomprehensible, her eyes held something comparable to that of a great evil and vast was her character, for one moment she was like an angel and then the next she lashes like a serpent to its prey. Arthur Dimmesdale treated her with caution, though something inside him knew that there was more to his wariness then that of the child's demonic nature.

"Do you speak to me, child?" the young reverend whispered, not daring to move closer.

"Thou hast been covered by satan," she cried. "Yet, ye be a God man!" Pearl smiled so her teeth shined like pearls- rather ironic considering her title and quite the opposed expression to that of her words.

"Thou knowest not what words you speak," Mr. Dimmesdale said.

"I like you." Pearl fumbled as she stood, holding the twig high above her head, swigging it around and giggling at the whooshing sound it made. "Thou hast a kind heart. Thou is cursed by black man, though!"

"You speakest in riddles, repeating the words of early this day. Where is thy mother?"

"Thou is cursed by black man!" Pearl repeated. Mr. Dimmesdale found her similar to that of mocking bird.

"I implore you, blessed child. Where is thy mother?"

"Thy mother is yonder over ridge." She pointed towards it. "She's sowing, now. Wouldst thou like to see?"

"Nay, child. Though it pains me, I must adjourn for it grows dark. As should you, little sparrow."

"I am not a sparrow! I am an eagle!"

Pearl came towards him now, swinging her stick to her side and skipping merrily. The reverend involuntarily took a step back, but she was upon him in an instant and the small thing presented the broken shell before him with stubby looking hands stained with earth. "Seest thou what I have in my hand!"

The reverend smiled, though it was forced and held nothing bright. The repercussions of his long journey through the country side were now barring down upon his feet, and his tired back leaned forwards to look upon the token. "Thou hast a pretty shell. Child, the sea must miss it. Didst thou steal it from the water's grip?"

"Nay, sir. The sea gave it to me!" Pearl jumped back a step away from him, and twirled around once, still holding the shell high above her head.

"How didst thou know it was a gift?" He wasn't really very curious to know the answer, though he decided to indulge upon the child as most men do for the purpose of silencing them when they grow weary of questions.

"It brought it forth from the water and onto the shore before my feet. It's mine now!" She grinned. "Hast thou ever been to the water?"

"As of late, I should think not."

"Oh, but you must!" she stopped her fidgeting and starred wide eyed up into the reverend's face. "We must go at once!"

The reverend was now dreading ever indulging in the child's folly. "Alas, nay, child. I must go home. My companion will be worried whenst I ran off to."

Pearl's nose scrunched up and her eyes twisted to confusion. "You are married, sir?"

"Nay. My companion is a friend, staying whilst I heal."

"You are sick, sir?"

Mr. Dimmesdale looked away from her and starred off into nothing. "Yes, child. Though it is not what you may think it is."

Little Pearl smiled and, for the first time, it was not one of a demonic nature. It was warm and full of a kindness the reverend had seen only in the child's mother before she was endowed with the letter A. Pearl took both of Mr. Dimmesdale's hands and held them between the two persons. The reverend compared her hands to his own and marveled at how small they were and how they were tinged a little darker then his pale complexion. They were soft to the touch and she cradled his hands between hers, her gaze still fixed to his face, smiling. He wondered if this was the child's true nature, if he and everyone had been wrong about her all this time. Mr. Dimmesdale decided she wasn't a spawn of the devil. She was an angel from God, sent to heal.

The man beheld his burden before him, smiling and holding him gently with care. For the first time, the reverend's heart felt warm.

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**My favorite scene from The Scarlet Letter:**

_The young minister, on ceasing to speak had withdrawn a few steps from the group, and stood with his face partially concealed in the heavy folds of the window-curtain; while the shadow of his figure, which the sunlight cast upon the floor, was tremulous with the vehemence of his appeal. Pearl, that wild and flighty little elf stole softly towards him, and taking his hand in the grasp of both her own, laid her cheek against it; a caress so tender, and withal so unobtrusive, that her mother, who was looking on, asked herself-"Is that my Pearl?" Yet she knew that there was love in the child's heart, although it mostly revealed itself in passion, and hardly twice in her lifetime had been softened by such gentleness as now. The minister-for, save the long-sought regards of woman, nothing is sweeter than these marks of childish preference, accorded spontaneously by a spiritual instinct, and therefore seeming to imply in us something truly worthy to be loved-the minister looked round, laid his hand on the child's head, hesitated an instant, and then kissed her brow. Little Pearl's unwonted mood of sentiment lasted no longer; she laughed, and went capering down the hall so airily, that old Mr. Wilson raised a question whether even her tiptoes touched the floor._ (5th page of the 8th chapter)


End file.
